


"And Hades is king" (Unfinished Works)

by Living_Fast



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Baby Technoblade, Bombings, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Dead People, Dragon Hybrid Phil Watson, Effects of death, Explosions, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Ghosts, God Phil Watson, God Tommyinnit, God Wilbur Soot, God technoblade, Good Dad Phil Watson, Hard of hearing Technoblade, Hardcore mechanics, I have too many ideas, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Incomplete, Man what the hell is canon man, Memory Loss, None of these are related, None of these will ever be finished, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Parent Death, Past Child Abuse, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade, Sad Technoblade, Sad Wilbur Soot, Self Harm, Shapeshifter Technoblade, Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Vilbur, We just hitting all the stops really, Winged Technoblade, Winged TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Wilbur Soot, Wingfic, Younger Sibling Technoblade, no beta we die like wilbur, one shots, twin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:42:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29974782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_Fast/pseuds/Living_Fast
Summary: This is basically me emptying out my google docs a little bit, these are a few unfinished Fics I've written, or just never saw a point in posting them?? So 'm just throwing them all together now for a lack things to do, and for the idea what it's a bit of a learning experience for me? In a way, just to see if any of you notice if there is any difference between things I've spent weeks working on, or sort things that I've worked on, on my phone on a 15 minute bus ride to my animation class.So Enjoy? And I hope these are actually worth something?
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Phil Watson / OC, Sapnap & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & Phil Watson, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 68





	1. "There's my Blue!" (Ghostbur Brain Rot)

**Author's Note:**

> So, this one I don't know if it was a platonic thought process, or if it wasn't. Honestly not 100% sure where my head was even at when I wrote this... So yay me? 
> 
> Also reminder you guys did want these... so, cool they all suck ass...

Wilbur hummed to himself, fidgeting with his sweater- giggling quietly. The blue would probably be staining his hands at this rate if he was alive. He sees it on Tommy’s palms more often than he doesn’t. 

But it’s nice- to give blue away, even if it doesn’t actually work. It’s nice. It’s hopeful, and Wilbur likes it that way. 

He wanders in between trees back to New L’Manburg, humming to himself, before pausing. Something blue catching his eyes, he chases after it absently. It looked pretty. 

And reminded him of something he couldn’t quite hold on to. 

A hand curled around his waist, he startles, turning to look at the offender.  _ No one can touch him.  _ Bright white eyes stare at him, they are soft, and Wilbur grins. 

Reaching over and grabbing for his horns. He presses his head into his hands, “Blue!” The man was wearing a blue sweater and a light red heart was stitched into the left pocket. “Hey, lover boy.” 

\---

Tubbo turned to look for Ranboo, Wilbur’s laughter was growing on the horizon. And he was a little confused on who he’d be laughing with. Everyone was here, even Phil. 

He spotted the yellow sweater, the Ghost had his hand turned and was holding onto something. Bright white eyes glanced around at them. “Phil! Dad! Look who I found!” His heart jumped into his throat. 

_ Schlatt  _ stood behind him, in a Blue sweater, hair hanging in messy curls into his face. A rather soft smile on his lips. His eyes were purely on Wilbur. Bright and White like the other ghosts. Horror crept up his throat, He could hear Quackity’s confused mumble. 

Tubbo took an involuntary step back when Schlatt gave a small wave, eyes flickering to each of their faces, there was no recognition in his expression. His hand was curled around Wilbur’s, and Tubbo swallowed. 

Phil had stepped forward, and Schlatt lit up. Stepping completely out from behind Wilbur, “Phil.” The pale blue eyes man smiled softly at him. Turbo reached back, a hand curled around his, Niki’s face greeted him. 

Wilbur was babbling on, one hand flapping, the other firmly holding Schlatt’s. Schlatt had the fondest smile on his face Tubbo had ever seen. Tubbo watches as he nudged Wilbur’s side softly, and instantly the Ghost's attention is changed. 

“Show me around  _ Loverboy.”  _ Wilbur basically bounced in place, pulling him through the crowd and further into New L’Manburg. Quackity watched them go with wide eyes. 

Phil’s expression was soft. 

And Tubbo wanted to vomit. 

\---

It turns out Schlatt doesn’t remember anything after he got banned, no election, no presidency, nothing else. It doesn’t make it any easier to be around him. 

Tubbo doesn’t think it will be that way for any of them, Quackity’s whole demeanor had changed as well. He’d gone from bubbly to hard and sharp the last couple of days. 

It made him realize that Schlatt and Quackity were Married, _had_ been at least. 

And Schlatt didn’t remember any of it, if the Ghost has Pupils he’d think They’d be heart eyes with the way his attention focuses on Wilbur perhaps it’d be the same for him as well. 

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be honest I wasn't actually going to post these, but I'm in a hotel room, and there's literally nothing else to do, besides watch youtube or write... So I decided to post a few of these. There will probably be one more that's posted tonight.. cool? Cool. 
> 
> Comments? I actually have no idea how these ever will function, or if they will do good.  
> (If this stupid Thing does better than anything I've officially written I will cry, and then probably never post anything again... That's a lie, I'll probably just cry)


	2. "My brain has claimed it's glory over me" (Written after the Execution Arch)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Techno curled his fingers around a chunk of snow, mind pleasantly quiet’ sitting with his back against Carl’s pin, the Horse nosing at his hair. He lifts his head and half nuzzles the horse back. The cold settles into his bones, heavy and keeps him awake. 
> 
> He watches the sun sink its fingers into the frozen wasteland, and for a second he’s sitting in a window staring out as the sun glares off the ice of the Antarctic, waiting for Phil and Pete to crawl out of bed so they can start their days."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this after the execution stream, and then never actually finished it because I think I started writing something else, which I don't think I finished.... So. yea, You'll see that soon.

Techno curled his fingers around a chunk of snow, mind pleasantly quiet’ sitting with his back against Carl’s pin, the Horse nosing at his hair. He lifts his head and half nuzzles the horseback. The cold settles into his bones, heavy and keeps him awake. 

He watches the sun sink its fingers into the frozen wasteland, and for a second he’s sitting in a window staring out as the sun glares off the ice of the Antarctic, waiting for Phil and Pete to crawl out of bed so they can start their days. 

To start a battle, and push each other around after- to laugh and buy Tommy a cupcake, to laugh and duck as the pastry is chunked at him. To tackle the teen, and watch as the Boy’s far too big suit gets full of snow. To listen to how Phil scolds both of them and stifles laughs in the background. For Wilbur to reach out and shove his shoulder, to pull Tommy off the ground, and for Techno to lay there and relax into the emptiness of his brain. 

Techno blinks, the rattle of bones; and the buzz of bees. He works his mouth and turns to look up at the Horse who stares down at him with empty brown eyes. Grabbing at his tusk, and struggling to rise to his feet, the cold permeates in his bones. Swallowing, and shaking out his hair. 

There is no Phil, not waiting for him to shove him out of bed in the Cabin, and Tommy can’t look at him without screaming, he hates him. Wilbur’s  _ dead,  _ and Pete can’t stand the sight of him after Techno tore down the castle with his bare hands in a fit of rage. 

He blinks a few times, shoving his hair out of his face. Carl kicks at the gate, pressing his head against Techno’s shoulder. He hums at the horse, the Voices in his head snarling loudly suddenly. 

Angry, angry, angry. 

He turns around abruptly the hair standing up on the back of his neck, his skin setting itself on fire. He grabs his arms and glares at the offending horizon, the Direction of L’Manburg. 

Something settles in him as the Voices that had been demanding bees and Toby turn to violent shouts. He can’t stop the way his hands shake, having grown used to the way they  _ Chatter,  _ had calmed down the farther he put distance between himself and everything else. The way they got excited at the prospect of Phil, and mundane everyday tasks. 

Now they grow anger by the second, mutters of Traitors, and Blood rattle and shake his happier thoughts away. The need to go get his Axe from where he left it tucked under his bed, he turns and darts for the house. Shoving the door open, and listens to the way the Voice starts shouting what potions he’s missing and what ingredients he needs to make them. 

His communicator is laying abandoned on the table where he left it days before. He scoops it up and stares down at messages. 

_ Philza: They are coming, get ready Old Friend.  _

Techno’s mind runs rampant.  _ How Dare they, how Dare they.  _

He chokes as the Voices clamor over each other, not yet on the same page; not yet, his hands shake and he types out a few responses and doesn’t quite receive what Phil sends back. The easy hum of E is gone, they are gathering ranks; slowly. Voices he hasn’t heard in weeks climbing from the pits of his brain. 

He moves on autopilot, grabbing bottles and filling them, climbs up the ladder, grabs the box from where he stashed it under his bed. He yanks the clips open and stares at the shin of both this sword and his axe. There’s his Diamond sword under the padding, hidden away from his sight. 

He slings it over his shoulder before he can overthink all of this and just  _ run.  _

Techno grabs the newly made potions and then the voices break off their tangent. One breaking away from the hive of Blood- to an excited Wilbur, he blinks stumbling over the lip on the rug;  _ Wilbur’s dead, he’s not here.  _ The ghost of a man who could be considered his brother stood there with a smile on his face. 

The Voices settled, and he could focus on just a few seconds. But panic, basic panic filled his throat, they would hurt Wilbur if they see him here, they always hurt those Techno likes. 

Wilbur does not understand Techno’s urgency, the man is  _ Dead;  _ the voices chattering turn into demands of Blood so after- tired of Wilbur, Wilbur is a distraction, and Techno stares at the Torches crossing the hill. 

His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, and he steps away from his doorstep, the voices scream, echoing voices that each demand different sets of blood, different people to lay dead at his feet. Many shout about Phil, some are still bubbling off on about Wilbur. One is excited about the Enderman Hybrid towering in the back. 

Techno doesn’t remember much of anything after the voices turn into one shouting force at the options of an easy way and a hard way. 

The boat rocks under him and his mind comes back to him in shambles, bits, and pieces he just starts talking, empty phrases. He’s both trying to remember what exists in his head and wants under him. He swallows and fights back the urge to fidget. 

He stares at Quackity sitting smugly atop of Carl, and his blood boils, all but ready to give control back, to vanish under the edges of his mind and tear them all apart. He could do it,  _ He could.  _ There was nothing stopping him, and several of the voices had very creative ways to do so.

He tries to shake them off, the weight of what he knows is a totem in his pocket. He stares straight ahead, snapping off at Tubbo who shoves him forwards ever so slightly. They all scatter, even Quackity who’s bravo and Confidence melts off his face, yanking Carl around hard; putting space between them and everyone else. 

There’s a sick satisfaction that sends the voices chattering like hyenas, he ignores the way the Enderman hybrid growls low in his throat when Quackity pulls the horse too close to him. It’s light and small and the chat growls louder at the sound. Especially when Techno echos his own louder and deeper in his chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH) 
> 
> Comments? Feedback, I've decided in less than 5 minutes that I'm just going to use these as Basically constructive criticism? Learning curves? Perhaps? I wrote these as basically practice fics, so. Idk.


	3. "There was a way out for him [The mirror shows not]" (TW, Not a fun one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No one had seen Techno in months, not even Phil; whose smile becomes more and more broken every time Wilbur asks after him. Tommy hasn’t asked after him, and it burns under his skin every time Wilbur rambles off about “Teddy” it makes a lump form in the back of his throat and it hurts. 
> 
> There’s very little that Wilbur really remembers, but if he could talk about Techno for hours if they really let him. Phil wouldn’t let him, something about how he wouldn’t appreciate it, and Wilbur’s face would go blank for a long moment. Hands stilling in the air, they would fall to his sides, and for a second Tommy was staring at an unscarred Technoblade. 
> 
> The Facial Expression, or rather lack of one. It unnerved him and Phil would try his hardest to redirect the conversation, and Wilbur would follow along more often than not. Sometimes the lights would flicker and he’d vanish. 
> 
> Tommy won’t admit it hurts when he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, PLEASE READ THIS-   
> Proceed this unfinished work with caution, Techno does- um. Off himself? It's not like written, or I have him actually remembering him doing it. But it's heavily implied, and heavily Referenced. So please, please, please be safe.

No one had seen Techno in  _ months _ , not even Phil; whose smile becomes more and more broken every time Wilbur asks after him. Tommy hasn’t asked after him, and it burns under his skin every time Wilbur rambles off about  _ “Teddy”  _ it makes a lump form in the back of his throat and it hurts. 

There’s very little that Wilbur really remembers, but if he could talk about Techno for hours if they really let him. Phil wouldn’t let him, something about how he wouldn’t appreciate it, and Wilbur’s face would go blank for a long moment. Hands stilling in the air, they would fall to his sides, and for a second Tommy was staring at an unscarred Technoblade. 

The Facial Expression, or rather lack of one. It unnerved him and Phil would try his hardest to redirect the conversation, and Wilbur would follow along more often than not. Sometimes the lights would flicker and he’d vanish. 

_ Tommy won’t admit it hurts when he does.  _

_ \--- _

He twitches, eyeing Sapnap over his shoulder; he was on a mission to find the Ghost version of his brother whether he wanted to be bothered today or not. He wanted someone to talk to. Hopping up the steps, grabbing at the edge of his sleeve; bending his hand at an odd angle. 

Sapnap had said practically nothing to him since he started shadowing him this morning. The afternoon sun was hot, even with it tucked behind clouds and Tommy just wanted to see his older brother, turning the corner and freezing. For a split second, he’s staring at Wilbur’s back. 

Everything zero’s in, and Tommy feels Sapnap bump into him and mumbles out an apology, backing away. His mind is running too fast and everything just falls apart. Because Wilbur doesn’t wear that  _ shirt and Wilbur’s dead no matter the amount of effort that Dad’s used to bring him back.  _

He steps off the last step, and the height difference is noticeable instantly. Plus Wilbur would have already turned around, a bubbly hello on his lips and a new thing to ramble about. But this isn’t Wilbur now that he can fully see him. 

The man in front of him’s hair is a faded pink on the edges, handing to his shoulder- ratty curls, dark brown roots. More of his hair was Brown than Pink. There was no  _ yellow-orange  _ sweater, only a white button-up. Tommy’s mind spins,  _ The Audacity of this Fucking man.  _ Tommy stepped forward wishing not for the first time they let him carry his sword around. His mind blindly registered Sapnaps loud curse before the man was stepping in front of him, rolling his blade in his hand. 

“You aren’t welcome here.” And perhaps the other was only doing it for Tommy’s benefit. His shit of a brother doesn’t answer, his attention glued elsewhere. And Tommy’s too keyed up to remember how fucked Techno hearing actually is, Sapnap steps forwards, and Techno still doesn’t move. 

His hands twitch by his sides in ways they haven’t done in years, and his posture is relaxed; he’s standing like Wilbur does when he’s amused by something. Maybe that’s why his brain clocked him in as Wilbur before Techno. 

There’s a light hum, and Tommy blinks a few times. It’s an old Russian Lullaby, one that Wilbur knew by heart and one that Techno would mumble out of the halls of the dark. It always made Tommy’s skin prickle and Phil stare at the two. Techno hasn’t sung it in years, and Wilbur never quite forgot the melody. 

But somethings  _ wrong,  _ and it burns under his hands, in his brain. Tommy grabs Sapnap’s arm softly, clutching at the fabric of his shirt between the clinks in his armor. “Techno?” His voice is louder and softer- and Techno’s soft humming only grows. 

The sun slips out between the clouds, and the cold feeling washes over him as the man standing in front of them flickers, turns transparent enough that the wanted poster is visible through him. 

And Tommy doesn’t know  _ who  _ starts screaming. Maybe it’s  _ him _ . 

It’s only him and Sapnap in the open space- at least he  _ thinks  _ so. 

He can’t remember. But someones screaming and he feels numb. 

Because only Wilbur is see-through. 

\--- 

Phil listens to Wilbur chatter on, his tea long cold; amusement and fondness in his stomach at the excitement in his Son’s voice. Sure there was a shadow of the boy’s twin missing, but this was still nice and it would always be. He flipped through the few pages of the new Book Wilbur had acquired, and listened to him talk. 

Sure he’d been here since early morning, and should probably be going soon. But Wilbur’s rant on how he was remembering larger bits of his and Techno’s childhood from before Phil took them in made him both soft and heartbroken. 

Phil hummed at something he said and leaned forwards to place the book down on the small side table when a muffled scream rattled through the small house in the sewer. And Wilbur froze completely, face screwing up and he turned towards the noise. Rising to his feet. 

“Was that Toms?” his voice was thick and protective, and for a second he was alive in Phil’s mind, fist clenched at his sides. Ready to take on the world for his twin, ready to smash someone’s face in. Phil grabbed his sword, shaking off the memory. “Yeah, it is.” 

Panic crawled up his throat, and he shoved at the iron door to open it faster. What if Dream decided to just end it? To just take what’s left of the 16 year-olds respawns. What if something had happened, and Because they won’t let Tommy run around armed he was in trouble. 

He climbed the ladder Wilbur’s panicked voice at his heels, chattering loudly- and words blurring together. 

The door shoved open, and a few seconds for his eyes to adjust had him staring at Sapnap hold a sobbing and screaming Tommy, his helmet off and his face panicked. Dropping his sword and sprinting over. A few other L’manburgians had come out of their own homes to see what the hell was wrong. And Phil just kept fearing the worst. 

But nothing prepared him for the last turn on his trip down to his youngest son. 

Where all of Tommy and Sapnap’s attention was glued to was a man, a man who had Wilbur’s body type. A man with Shorn hair, that was a mix of faded uncared for pink ends, and growing dark brown roots. 

And Phil’s heart stopped, everything crashing in on him; the hum of a Russian Lullaby- the white shirt, the high-waisted slacks. He was barefoot. His toes were blue, and so were his fingers. The only real color on his body despite his pink ends. 

Sapnap’s face was covered in tears, more bubbling over and spilling down his cheeks- but no noise escaped his lips, and he just held on to Tommy. Tommy’s screams had turned into heartbreaking sobs, Hands clutching at the older boy’s arms holding him. 

Wilbur had gone quiet, and Phil was full of panic. Because this isn’t real, this isn’t- it can’t be.  _ It can’t.  _

Phil steps forward, but not before he catches Tubbo doing the same- words on his lips, “Are you turning yourself in?” and Phil wants to scream, because no Tubbo- no, he’s not, he’s not. This isn’t real. The man doesn’t respond, just keeps humming and staring off into space. Wilbur’s presence is cold against his back, and he floats partially through him. Up into the other space. 

His voice is the softest it’s ever been, quiet and not for anyone else to hear. But whatever he says has the other moving, glancing up at him away from the poster on the wall. There’s a deep burn scar on the entire left side of his face, old and something that makes his left eye a milky blue. 

Something deep in him cracks completely. Turning to reach for Tommy, because this isn’t real. He has three sons,  _ Three.  _ Not  _ One.  _

\---

Teddy turns at the sound of his name, twitching his hands at his sides uncomfortably. His arms hurt still, and he’s not quite sure when he got here, but that’s his face- his mask painting the wall in front of him. He’s not quite sure why it’s there. 

He’s been gone a long time, the void is nice- But he’s not sure why he’s in New L’manburg (that’s what the sign said right?) of all places, this isn’t where he died- at least he thinks so, he just remembers cold. 

So why? 

He stares up at Wilbur’s face, it’s panicked and that hard feeling grows in his stomach. Protect him, help him. “Oh, Teddy.  _ What did you do”  _ Techno stares at him, a hand curls around his hair- and he blinks. Wilbur’s face is still panicked but it’s fading slowly. “Where’s your mask?” The one he doesn’t remember he thinks he lost it after he left. 

Maybe he crushed it under a chunk of stone. He’d always entertained that idea, and Wilbur would laugh along and they’d hunt for hours for stones to crush the bone under. Ones that would really work. Papa would always find them, scold them both perhaps a little too much sometimes and fasten the mask straps back around the back of Techno’s head. Mumble something out about  _ Tommy _ , always about Tommy, and Techno would feel at the skull on his face. 

And Wilbur would mumble out something darkly as Phil walked back into the house, and Would promise one day they  _ would  _ break it so he doesn’t have to wear it anymore. 

“I don’t remember where I left it. Don’t want to remember Wilbur, Never liked it.” And Wilbur nods like that makes  _ sense _ . And Then pulls him along, babbling off on something. Techno trips over his feet for just a second his arm burns at the movement, but grits his teeth and follows along. 

The crowd parts quietly for Wilbur and closes behind Techno. 

\---

Tubbo runs cold at the sight of Techno’s face, the first time he’s ever seen him without the mask, and it becomes painfully obvious that he and Wilbur are biological brothers. But what doesn’t help the image, is the blood staining his shirt sleeves, and the lower half of his shirt. 

Or Tommy’s screaming, or Phil’s silent horror. 

The past few days, any conversation held with Anger towards his friend is gone, Tommy’s lost, two brothers. And Tubbo isn’t going to Let Phil lose all his Sons. Not to death, not to suicide, not to an angry man in a smiley-faced mask. 

\---

Tommy won’t let go of his shirt, and Phil won’t let him leave his sight. No one has spoken to either of them and when Dream came around demanding to know why no one had shown up for the court date. Exile Day. 

He was met with blank stares, and quietly shut doors. 

Dream stands in an empty town, a quiet town, a quiet country and he’s confused. What the hell happened in 2 days? There’s a light humming coming from the bottom of the crater, and he climbs down slowly, boyish giggles float through the air, Wilbur, and for a second he expects Tommy’s laugh to follow behind and the familiar feeling of rage of being disobeyed to flood in. 

But the voice that follows is soft, and Wilbur’s climbs over it in ways that it never has with Tommy’s. 

There are two figures sitting on the ground, Dream pulls off his mask, Wilbur’s head is thrown back in bubbly laughter, and the other’s head is bowed but their laughter echos off the floor. “Wilbur?” Both faces turn his way, and he’s struck with how dark it is down here. 

“Oh! Hello Dream! If you’re looking for Tommy, I think he’s with Phil. Though I’m not sure, they haven’t come to talk to us in a while.” The other just sits, doesn’t say anything and his form flickers and for a second he wonders if Schlatt’s ghost has finally made its appearance and that’s why everyone was quietly locked away. 

He clips his mask to his belt and lights a torch off his arm guard. The zombies groaning around the edges moans grow louder for a second as they retreat into the dark, and the two are bathed in soft lighting. Milky blue and Brown eyes stare at him, the other ghost isn’t  _ Schlatt _ . And Dream stares in mute horror. 

The other looks at him, before they turn to face the other way- fidgeting with their hands in a way Dream has never seen before. “Teddy! Teddy!” Dream’s heart thumps in his throat, as Wilbur grabs the other’s hands softly, pulling him to his feet. “Have you met Dream? I don’t remember.” 

Translucent pink and dark brown curls bounce with the small nod he makes. His face is scarred, far more than Dream’s is, the left-sided covered in old and deep burns; his eyes are a milky blue and brown. The bags are so deep they create real bruises that cover his far too pronounced cheekbones. The man’s button-up shirt is stained with still wet blood, it drips off his sleeves. It never makes it to the ground. 

Wilbur looks the same way he did when Manburg fell and New L’Manburg rose in its place, Tattered trench coat and bloody shirt underneath. Face covered in dark bruises. Almost matching to his brother, but not quite there. His hair is a mess and it’s almost too much to look at. 

Dream swallows and comes closer. “ _ Teddy _ ” Flinches, curling slightly behind Wilbur at the sight of him. He freezes confused, and Wilbur apologizes softly. “Quackity yelled at him this morning- he’s a bit skittish.” And there’s so  _ much  _ Dream doesn’t know about these brothers. The things he doesn’t understand, but looking at them now- tattered and wearing their deaths plainly. There’s nothing here but a warning to Dream. 

He never wished to watch a Family fall apart at the seams, for a Son to beg a Father to kill him. 

For a Twin to kill himself in the wake of his counterpart’s death. 

For boys to burn houses on  _ accident _ , and for Little brothers to take all the blame. For little brothers to hold onto Discs like they were more precious than Gold. For Little brothers to just be Son instead of Brother. 

Wilbur invites him to sit with them, and he does- but Techno doesn’t move out of hiding, and it's a wonder what he remembers and what he doesn’t. But slowly as Wilbur Talks his clothes twist until he’s in that yellow-orange sweater, and his face is unmarried with the marks of insanity. The blood on Techno’s shirt lessons some but doesn’t go away. 

The Twins lean on each other. 

And Dream chocks on words.

\---

Techno twitches and pulls his legs closer to his chest. Curling his arms over them and lays his head on his knees. The lanterns flickered, floating softly around- the hot air balloon giving off small puffs of air every so often. 

The wind whipped through him, he couldn’t feel it; and it was sort of nice. To sit in the cold air of night, and ignore everything. 

Ignore being Dead. 

Ignore that Wilbur’s dead and he doesn’t remember how long it’s been since he spoke to him. 

The roof creaked and he twisted his head around to stare at the imposing person. Phil’s familiar pale blue eyes greeted him. Techno shifted and turned back to stare at the sky. 

The man sat by his side, legs dangling down past his and he leaned back; he could feel his eyes on him. “Why did you do it?” His voice was hoarse and tired. And Techno felt a slight amount of remorse twinge in his brain. 

He shrugged, pulled his knees in tighter. Rubbing his fingers along the seam of his pants, “I don’t remember. All I can remember is cold- and then Void.” He lays his head to the side on his knees, he doesn’t look at their father. He feels at the leathery texture of his burn scar on his face. 

Techno puffed a useless bout of air from his mouth, watching a ghost of air float away in the wind. 

Phil’s breathing hitch, and Techno turns to look at him, There are tears running down the man's face, dropping onto his shirt. “I’m so  _ sorry,  _ I failed all  _ three _ of you.” He scrubs at his face, staring through him, “You and Wilbur the most, and I’m so  _ sorry Teddy.”  _

Techno looks away again, there’s nothing to be sorry for- he doesn’t even know what Phil had done, why He himself was even on Dreams land. Last he could remember he didn’t even  _ like  _ Dream.

His fingers are still cold if he focuses hard enough, and his arms still burn. Tears drip down his cheeks, and he stares at where the sun was reaching its first claws of day into the land. As house lights flicker on, as people begin to populate the street. 

Wilbur appears at his side, downing in his trench coat, Techno reaches for his hand. Fingers curl into his, Phil’s sobs grow quiet. Techno leans over and places his head on his brother’s shoulder. 

There’s a lull that falls over the three of them. Phil stares off into the distance, and Techno tries to ignore the cold that permeates his bones. Colder than Wilbur, and marks just where he died. 

\---

Wilbur helps him make his own little hovel, chatting excitedly. It’s familiar and his brain loses a tense piece he’s carried since he left  _ home.  _ Followed after Wilbur hardly a year after he left, headed in a different direction. 

People come out and around to talk to Wilbur, but they never look at Techno, maybe it’s the too deep marks down his forearms. He doesn’t know- no one will tell him why no one will speak to him. 

Or maybe it’s the fact that Techno doesn’t want to speak to any of them anyway. He doesn’t  _ owe  _ any of them  _ anything.  _ He’s sticking around because Wilbur is, not because anything else. 

\---

Tommy peaks around the corner, Wilbur was making a few potions and Techno was tucked against the back wall with his eyes closed. Dream had left L’Manburg alone, had even tore down the wall. 

He steps into the room, and brown eyes turn to great him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's funny is this one is actually a whole 3k words, like why did I never just post it as an open-ended fic... why???


	4. "Constellations" (WingFic + Young Technoblade)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Time in hardcore worlds was a fickle thing- Phil does not entirely remember what year he started, or how old he’d been. Time slides past with every heart you lose, and fills overflowing glasses of water with each heart you regain. 
> 
> There way no way to explain to anyone who wasn’t apart of hardcore worlds how time in them true Truely works. Or how you can spend years fighting everyday for your life and lose it, stumbling into a hub lobby. Everything changed. 
> 
> Phil’s long outlived many of his old friends that way, and he’s made himself stuck in a loop of never growing too attached."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ones a bit confusing, and a tiny bit long.  
> Uh, not 100% sure how to explain it, but.  
> Wilbur is the oldest- Fundy is his adopted Son  
> Tommy is the middle child  
> Techno is the Youngest
> 
> All of them are Phil's biological children. Hardcore worlds have weird time, I think I spent more time Worldbuilding than actually writing the story for this one so...

Time in hardcore worlds was a fickle thing- Phil does not entirely remember what year he started, or how old he’d been. Time slides past with every heart you lose, and fills overflowing glasses of water with each heart you regain. 

There way no way to explain to anyone who wasn’t apart of hardcore worlds how time in them true Truely works. Or how you can spend  _ years  _ fighting everyday for your life and lose it, stumbling into a hub lobby. Everything changed. 

Phil’s long outlived many of his old friends that way, and he’s made himself stuck in a loop of never growing too attached. 

So the first time he takes a true break from one is when his death is violent and messy, he collapses into a random hub with a scream on his lips; and tears pouring down his cheeks. A few passing people stare at him in pity, a few offer soft words. But most know he won’t remove himself from the floor until his heart works properly again. 

When he does he stares at the carnage that is the sword scar of a rogue zombie’s slide through his rib cage, a lucky shot. Echoed by the explosion of a creeper in his ears. He rubs at it before climbing shakily to his feet, stumbling slightly on his first step. His wings had an odd feeling on his back, used to the heavy weight of the elytra extension. 

The light Gray appendages curling around him in a mimic of a hug. 

He wanders around the hub for a few hours, glancing at open worlds, worlds full of mini games- new names he’s never read gracing leaderboards. He re familiarizes himself with the world, staring emptily at the walls. 

There’s the one open hardcore world one that’s been there for ages, it was a come and go world. But your life would be snatched away if you weren’t careful. No hub to be slid into. Phil’s never seen it close, even after the new requirements for Hardcore worlds.

It’s mostly a rest stop for hardcore players, one that can be exited- but one that’s up to date. Made to keep them alive, but still have an edge of danger to it. 

Phil had pressed into the portal without much thought. 

\---

The world was vast and mostly explored.The people were ones who had spent years alone, who grew attached and lived happily as one unit of survival. 

Phil made friends- permanent friends for the first time in years. The amount of people who seemed to live in harmony grew to be something that Phil fell in love with. 

As well as a girl by the name of Sammy. 

She was miles braver than him, far more ready to fight then him. He had learned that she had lived on the server, with a few of her friends before; the longest. Sure the few gravestones that marked spawn read their names. She never seemed ready to follow. 

The town's unofficial leader. 

And Phil’s best friend. 

A pair of scares only achieved from losing a fight to a wither graced her face. Scares that where a harsh midnight black against her pale skin. Her left cheek slightly shrunken, and one brown eye slightly milky. Her arms were a mix of the color. And she never wore anything other than short sleeves because fabric irritated the marks. 

Sammy was never one to be held back by her problems, nor her slight blindness. Phil had come to learn that he was the only one allowed on her left side, and he’d never felt as honored as he did then. 

A drunk hook up- one that neither remembers properly spurred a path in their relationship they never realized they could go down. It also gave them Wilbur. 

Who was a surprise to both of them, a Baby with bright brown eyes and curly brown hair. Small Brown and light red freckled wings. 

He was a happy baby, truely a people person from day one, and born into a town that loved him more then the world they lived in.

The spotlight in their lives. With bubbly bright giggles, and soft coos. Phil adored his son more than life itself, each little red and brown feather cared for softly. Holding his son close as he danced through the kitchen with him, held him tightly; cheek pressed against his tiny head. 

Phil asked Sammy to marry him 3 days after Wilbur’s first birthday.  _ She said yes. _

Their second son was planned, 3 years after having Wilbur. They both agreed to try for another kid- Phil had desperately wanted a little girl. 

Sammy rode through Her second pregnancy smoothly. Hardly any complications, and the baby hardly gave her any trouble. After 9 hours in labor, Thesus came kicking and screaming into the world. A pair of gold and white wings curled across his back. 

He was almost the opposite of Wilbur as a babe. Loud, clingy and grabby. If he didn’t have someone’s attention, everyone was going to know how upset about it He was. Phil loved him, and the blonde boy was another bright light in his life. 

Or small adventures around the living room, of dances competed now with a Small toddler hanging on top his legs. And Gold and white wings cradled in his arms. 

A small family of 4.

\---

Wilbur was a musician from the very start- with loud off key songs, to Sammy handing him a play Ukulele at 3. Wilbur was determined to learn every instrument he could get his tiny hands on. 

Theseus or Tommy as Sammy like to call him; was more of a wild child. One that kept them on their toes, and always wanted to go, go,  _ go.  _

When Jordan Sparklez and his Son Toby— Tubbo, moved in a few houses down. It was like magic, Tommy calmed down just a bit- still just as loud and just as bright. 

When Wilbur turned 8, and Thesus turned 4. Sammy quietly told Phil, running her fingers over the edges of his light Gray feathers, that she thought she might be pregnant again. 

Age worked on the server- slowly, but it still worked. Because of its open to anyone policy. 

Sammy was well past creeping into dangerous to have a baby in hardcore world terms area. Phil climbed out of bed at 3am, and walked to the closest store. Bought 2 Pregnancy tests, ignored the worried look on the cashiers face. And walked back home. 

He sat with his wife in the bathroom the entire time, the two curled up on the floor. Neither wishing to look at the sticks stilling in the sink. 

Phil had never been more overjoyed and upset at the sight of two pink positives. Sammy's look of horror burned into his mind. 

\---

They pulled all the stops, Sammy was on bedrest most of the time; Phil sometimes felt like a single Dad holding down a small part time job building structures and taking care of Wilbur and Tommy. 

He never once regretted it. 

He spent hours teaching Wilbur groom care, how to repair damaged feathers. How to take care of the downy fluff of Tommy’s small golden tipped wings. How to carefully stretch them. 

Phil taught his oldest how to glide off the couch, and how to cook Mac and cheese. How chicken Nuggets could go into the heater of the furnace for a few minutes and taste just the same as if Phil himself had made them. 

Wilbur knew how to take care of himself and his baby brother for the two hours Daddy was gone and for the entire days Mama laid in bed. 

For the most part the first 7 months of Sammy’s pregnancy went fine. Around 7 and a half months problems arose. The baby was unruly in some ways, sitting odd, pressing against her spine; against her bladder. 

She hurt in ways she didn’t with Their first two. 

Their third son was almost two months earlier. 

\---

Phil had never felt so hopeless, with Tommy and Wilbur at the Sparklez residence. And Phil pressed into an uncomfortable chair at the clinic office. Listening to his wife scream at a Doctor for hours. 

Desperately wishing he could help in any shape or form. 

But Sammy had kicked him out when the doctor started explaining that their baby was nowhere near ready to be born. And Sammy's body had almost no chance of surviving the strain. 

High chances only one would make it out of the day alive. Sammy demanded her baby, and Phil- 

Phil would never forgive himself. 

\---

When his third son was born he was tiny, and Sammy was dying. A tiny bundle that was rushed past Phil before he could get a good look at him, the doctor had quietly told him it was a boy in the hall. 

Phil had never felt so alone. 

_ Two boys never got to say goodbye to their mother.  _

_ One never even got to say hello. _

Sammy passed away 3 hours after the emergency Surgery. Never once getting to see her newborn. Phil with his head on her bed, and her hand curled into his; whispering stories long after the doctors pronounced her dead. 

A communicator pressed into his palm with a whisper to call someone. He spent 30 minutes on a line with Jordan before dissolving into sobs. 

His wife was  _ dead,  _ and his Newborn son didn’t have high chances of living through the night. 

Phil didn’t even know what they even  _ looked like.  _

He didn’t even have a  _ name.  _

Phil wouldn’t even get to see him until almost 78 hours later, a baby tucked away in a crib with tubes covering his small face, curled half into a red blanket. A baby that was going to live. 

He wouldn’t get to hold him until 3 weeks after his wife’s death. 

Tiny, tiny fingers curled around his pointer finger, of developing blue eyes, and pale pink feathers, with gray and white splotches of undeveloped colors. With small dark freckles coating his pale cheeks, Phil learned later belonged to Sammy before her last solo hardcore world. Her face had been discolored so badly, it had hardly held any color. Despite the fact her skin was naturally darker. 

Phil learned that his unnamed son was affectionately referred to as “little bear” by his nurse staff. For no reason other than the fact the little one had started growing a head full of his mother’s brown curls. 

And for his stomach of a hungry bear cub. 

He signed the boy’s legal documents with the name “Teddy Minecraft” and the first time he officially greeted his son was with a soft “Hello little bear.” Blue eyes a smidge darker then his and Tommy’s pale blue ones. Blinking up at him impossibly wide

Wilbur and Tommy were kept away from the Clinic as much as possible, both still too young to understand their fathers heavy grief and a little too old to understand why Mama wasn’t coming home. 

The first time Teddy was placed in Wilbur’s hands, the very first time tiny fingers touched a nose that matched his own. Their mothers nose. The first time Tiny chubby toddler hands curls around slim tiny baby fingers, and bright baby blue eyes met dark Blue eyes- Did Phil truly understand why Sammy chose her son over herself. 

\---

Phil raised three boys on his own to his best ability. Even with the help of neighbors or townspeople, there was always going to be large problems. Teddy took a lot of his time. Premature, and a budding shapeshifter. Tommy took a lot of his time, a growing toddler already with an itch to see and learn everything. Wilbur took a lot of the time, a boy who wanted to go, and go- and be a part of. 

He felt like he was abandoning his boys every time he loaded his attention at Teddy for a few hours. He slept most of the time, but there were a few hours of the day where the baby wanted nothing more than to be held. Hours that Phil stumbled around one armed, trying desperately to coral his hyper Toddler of a Son, and for his oldest son to at least finish reading that page,  _ please Wilbur.  _

Teddy being a shapeshifter was terrifying at first, truly showing his colors by the time he was almost 1, ever shifting hair colors, lengths, the first time Teddy changed his height he was far too tall for a toddler. He would tucker himself out eventually, shapes changing back to what he was born as. 

The babe was adamant to look like Wilbur, as soon as the baby realized they looked so alike besides eye shape and color, the 9 year old hardly minded. If anything he was ecstatic.

But the gods above did it stress Phil. The first time his son's wings vanished, Teddy cried for hours- the normally quiet 3 year old, screamed until Phil could coax the boy into relaxing enough for them to shift back across his back. Spilling down his sides, twitch with reformed nerves and feathers. 

Phil wished desperately for no permanent damage. 

But Teddy was always a special case. 

\---

Phil hates to admit he focused a lot more time on Teddy then on his other two sons after the death of his wife. And for several of the years after, both boys held some sort of unknown grudge against him almost, perhaps the fact that this boy got to come home. And their mother didn’t. 

Tommy was adamant to be his own person as soon as he could, loud- and always attached to the hip with Tubbo. 

Perhaps it was for the fact that by the time Teddy turned 10, Wilbur was a father already- of a small Forest Fox, a boy that wasn’t even biologically his. 18 and raising a child that his girlfriend dumped into his hands, and ran off. The kid was older than Teddy by a few years, clearly showing that Wilbur wasn’t his father, and perhaps the girl had been lying about her age from the start. 

Tommy had grown into I don’t need any of you phase and hadn’t quite come out of it. So often enough it was just Phil and his smallest son left in the house. 

Who signed up for a Tournament in the hub without Phil’s knowledge under a pen name “Technoblade” when Phil found out, it was devastation- and it was only because the boy had started a long winning streak that scared the ever living shit out of himself. 

There were nights where Phil stood and watched the streams live- of the large shifted form of his youngest son, of a broader nosed, square jawed Pink haired man in the place of his 12 year old child. 

Duel requests came and went. Technoblade was the player, a god of some sort. 

\---

The first set of Large Money ridden Trials, ones that Phil himself was invited to. Wilbur was paired with him for the first game, and it was the first time he saw his oldest son in person in almost a year. 

Wilbur’s grin was bright, and his laugh was adorably bright as it always had been. Sure they were absolutely  _ terrible _ . But it was fun, it was almost incredibly fun to watch Techno cross the fields. With loud whoops, and small victory chants. 

Phil was never more proud of his youngest son. Even in the waiting rooms, with several grumpy players. Angry about the fact Techno was dominating. 

Wilbur was excitable for different reasons. He didn’t know Techno was  _ Teddy.  _ And Phil was going to keep his son's wish of letting his brothers know from him. 

So when they were announced the winners, and the crowds died down, Phil watched and waited for his son to come bounding down the stairs.

Wilbur stood next to him, chatting excitedly to a few others around. Before his attention was turned back to Phil. “How’s Teddy?” His voice was hesitant, and this wasn’t a topic they breached the entire past few days. 

He smiled at his oldest and tucked a wing around him. “He’s good. Despite the fact he taught himself how to sword fight without any guidance.”  _ It wasn’t a complete lie, Skywars, blitz, and Bedwars had some guidance. And Simon Hypixel Seemed to love Phil’s youngest son.  _

Wilbur’s grin was bright, and his laugh was equally so. His wings shaking with amusement. “Fundy’s been bugging me about the same things. But I wouldn’t pin little  _ Daddy’s boy  _ Teddy _ to be rebellious.”  _

Phil’s smile felt forced, and perhaps a little sad. If only his two older boys knew. 

A voice shouting  _ Dad,  _ a Bundle of brown curls free from the small bun at the back of his head, and pink wings came barreling down the steps. Wilbur startled. Haven't seen his Little brother in a few years now, Teddy not once pausing before crashing into Phil’s chest. 

“Hey Little bear.” 

His youngest response was muffled by how he was crammed into Phil’s torso. He had a feeling it was somewhere along the lines of “Did you see me?” Phil pressed his cheek around brown curls, and smiled at Wilbur. Mumbling out a “Course I did bear.” Into fluffy curls.

Wilbur splutter of offense was loud enough for Teddy to pull away slightly. “You  _ suck  _ at fightin’ Wil.” Brown eyes and Blue eyes stared at each other for a long moment. Before Wilbur pulled a face, reaching out to swipe at his brother. 

Teddy screeched, wings puffing up and then slamming into Wilbur stomach. “Yeah? You tiny Gremlin! Let’s see you do any better. With your short arms, and legs.” Phil laughed, shoving at the two with his wings as Wilbur began to mercilessly shove his fingers along his brother's ribs. 

“I may not live at home but I still know you're Ticklish.”

It took very little effort to carry around Teddy and Wilbur was talking full advantage of that, lifting his brother and swinging him around. Hiking up the others shirt on accident, and the rest of brown curls falling from his bun. 

Phil stands and laughs at the display. A few of the left over crowd stare at the three, drawn by Teddy’s high pitched laughter. “Wilburrrr! sto-A-p.” 

The older stilled in his movements, but held Teddy aloft still; the brothers catching their breath. “Put me down?” 

Wilbur shakes his head making a low hum, “Nah I’m good here.” Teddy kicks at his brother’s leg, but doesn’t do much to remove himself from the situation. Phil turned to look at the slowly shutting off lights. Glancing back around to his sons that are still clinging to each other without truly paying any attention to it. 

“Join us for dinner Wil?” The older brunette paused in his swing, Teddy mumbled out a please at the end for Phil, he always added a please at the end. Staring up at his brother with hopeful eyes. Wilbur stilled for a long moment, chewing thoughtfully on his lip. “I’d have to pick up Fundy… and maybe see if Tommy feels like answering his communicator.” 

Teddy let out a shriek, letting go of his tight grip on his brother’s arm; looking far more open then Phil had seen his youngest in months. “Yes! Yes! You can meet Kristin!” Phil felt his face heat up, glaring at his youngest son. 

Wilbur’s eyebrows rose, a confused and intrigued expression painting his face. “Kristin?” 

“I should have left you at  _ home _ you cretin _.”  _ Teddys overjoyed crackle was art to some degree, sliding out of Wilbur’s hold. Wings spread out across the ground. Still as splotchy with undeveloped colors, pale pink, and grays. “She’s a friend of mine.” 

His son’s face of disbelief rattled in Phil’s Brain enough to almost uninvite his son and his grandson to dinner. But he bit his tongue and steadied Teddy when he climbed to his feet. Still a bit wobbly from the change in body shape and height. 

He pulled out his communicator, and typed out a new IP, and cords before sending them to Wilbur. Smiling mutely at the way Teddy slumped into his side. “We moved, the IP will find the world in a hub. Just follow the paths. You’ll find The house.” 

Wilbur nodded slowly, before a grin stretched across his face; shaking out his limbs. “Imma get Fundy, message Tommy, and crash for about an hour. Be over sometime around 7ish your word time?” 

Phil nodded, and started walking back towards the hun portal linking him home.  _ Them home,  _ glancing down at Teddy’s half asleep form pressed against his side. 

\---

Teddy was passed out on the couch when Wilbur and Fundy arrived, curled into a ball- the past few days of living completely shifted away from his normal body had exhausted him. Kristin had laughed at the two when they came in, her brown eyes bright with amusement. 

Phil had greeted her with a chipper “Hi Love.”, and Teddy mumbled out a sleepy “Hello.” before he face planted into the couch. 

She had put away the bag that was undeniably Techno’s gear for Phil and helped him get started on dinner. Phil loved her, so much; all the time. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.” She grinned up at him, and pulled a pan of the furnace top. “Anything for you and your boys. You know that.” 

And God did Phil know. 

Teddy had grown just as attached to Kristin as Phil had. She was Mom to him in Ways Sammy never got to be, and it hurts him sometimes when Teddy refures to Sammy, as Sammy instead of Mom. But Phil cannot fault him for it, Sammy never got to be his mother, there wasn’t the bond there that Wilbur and Tommy had. She was just Sammy to Teddy, and there was nothing else to say about it. 

Kristin had joined their family a few years back, after Tommy left and never really came back, and sort of made herself at home there. Phil wouldn’t regret it. It was one of the reasons they moved out of the shared hardcore world. Many people had begun to see Phil as moving on as distasteful, or even disrespectful to his Dead Wife. Something that wasn’t their choice and nor did they have a say in any of it, despite their efforts to make it so. 

It had ragged down on all of them, Phil moved across the kitchen to start cutting bread and stick it into a skillet. Teddy at 11 wasn’t spared from the anger of the small community. Often leaving the normally stoic, and quiet boy in tears, that’s where Phil drew the lie. 

They could be mean to him, he glanced into the Living room; but not to his  _ son.  _ Teddy’s wings were spilling off the edge of the couch, one being used as a blanket. 

When 7 rolled around, an alert to the world informed Phil of Wilbur and Fundy’s arrival. Washing his hands in the skin, and drying them off on the towel hanging off the cabinet. “Wake the sleeping bear for me?” Kristin laughed at him, but nodded. 

Pulling his boots back on, and slinging the special made coat over his shoulders. He headed out the door, determined to greet them halfway. The sight of his giant of a son, and his shorter Grandson made Phil grin moving towards them with far more excitement then before. 

“Grandpa!” Fundy despite being 17, launched himself forward; it’s been a long time since they had seen each other. “Hey mate!” Curling his wings around the boy, “How’s it going?” Fundy started chattering almost instantly. Excitement clear in the way his ears twitched, and the way his tail was wagging. 

Wilbur laughed at them, and brushed past. “Tommy said he’d be over around 7:30 or something. So let's hope he’s on time.” Phil gave his own chuckle at the mention of his middle son. “I won’t mind as long as he drags Tubbo along.” Fundy’s excited chirp was far more adorable than it needed to be, and Phil let himself be dragged up the path. “Last I checked Teddy was still passed out, but who knows.” 

The house was loud with Kristin’s laughter, Teddy was sleepily leaned against the counter, the cat slinking past and out the door. 

Fundy gives an excited chirp, and Teddy echos the noise with wharped voicalcords. The two boys greet each other with a small hug, and Fundy regards Kristin with flattened ears and untrusting eyes. 

Wilbur would be doing the same, if not for his lack of fluffy ears. But his wings are slightly spread, and Phil holds back a laugh. 

“Kristin, my oldest son-“ 

“Wilbur! That,” she turns to Fundy with soft brown eyes, “would make you Fundy.” The fix hybrid nods slowly, “Yes?” She grabs Teddy before he can fall over, and steadies him. Before she returns her attention back to Phil’s Grandson. 

Phil pushes Wilbur forward a smidge with his wing. “Phil would probably be embarrassed if I were to spill just how much he talks about the two of you.” A devilish smile pulled at her lips, and a spark of mischief shimmered in her eyes. “Maybe over dinner.” 

Wilbur's laugh was short and a smidge surprised. 

A calm settled over the house, and Teddy’s wings dragged the ground. Kristin reached for him, but the boy stumbled slightly, out of her reach. Blue eyes dipped closed “Phil he’s-“ 

“Got him.” By passing Wilbur and reaching around Fundy, to grab Teddy before he hit the ground. Both Wilbur and Fundy startled, and Phil hoisted the 14 year old up into his arms smoothly. Head propped up on his shoulder. “Back to the couch we go bear.” 

Teddy growled low in his throat, “No-“ “Yeah Kiddo, you look exhausted. We’ll still be where when you get up.” Wilbur's voice was soft, and he was curling half around Fundy, the fox leaning back into his fathers chest. Something akin to panic was swimming in the depths of his eyes, and Phil resolved to ignore it for the moment. 

After settling his youngest back on the couch, Phil headed back into the kitchen. “Sorry, he’ll be okay in a little while. Shifting heights to see over people is exhausting.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this bad boy on my phone... on a bus, it's 4k words  
> I would like to know why I wrote this on a bus, and when- and just generally- I'm sure there was an idea here, but I cannot remember at all what it was supposed to be really.


	5. "You think you can love me and leave me to die?" (God AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW, There's a small piece in the beginning- Techno does do the bad self-harm again- I really wasn't in an amazing mindset while writing some of these I realize, wow. Holy shit. 
> 
> It starts at "Wilbur will never admit he was bitter about the fact that everything seemed more important than his two cursed sons and the Tiny, Tiny, God of Chaos, and Truth."   
> And ends at "Wilbur won’t forget watching a God die."   
> its only referenced one more time later, but From Techno's perspective, and he doesn't really remember doing it, so Watch out for that as well. 
> 
> Please, please, please be safe

Techno doesn’t truly remember a time before the Voices in his head, sure there were bits and pieces, most of what he knows is clouded over with Chat. He does remember being a young god, with wide, shy smiles, and an unhealthy attachment to plants. 

God of Spring, Protection,  _ War.  _

He had no qualms with violence at a young age, he would have done anything to protect his tiny, but growing garden from Wilbur’s endless chaos. Despite the man being the God of Music, and Peace. The tenge of Wilbur being the God of Death was nothing any of them worried about. 

There was nothing about Philza Minecraft’s Sons that was harmful. Born to thrive, to accommodate each other. 

Techno doesn’t remember a time before the older gods left the young ones with their  _ Gifts,  _ it was long before Tommy came, he does know that. 

The voices came in tiny waves, along with Wilbur’s spirals of madness. Things that left the two young boys at odds, as the natures they were born into fought with the presence of dead gods. 

He doesn’t remember a day where there wasn’t a haste voice calling for blood in the back of his skull. They never cared for whose blood it was. His plants went untended, and Spring stopped coming. 

Techno grew to love the cold. 

Techno won’t lie if asked, he does not remember much of his childhood anymore. It drags against his brain every time he touches his wrists, and he can never quite look at bathtubs the same. There’s not much he wants to remember if from what Wilbur mumbles about madly into the night says. 

He grows to be the blood God, and there is nothing more than he can say for anything. 

He ignores Tommy as much as possible.  _ Chat  _ wants him dead more often than not, a loud scream of  _ Replacement  _ rattled around in his ears for years, hours. Techno never understood why. 

He loves Phil, and he takes care of Wilbur when he can. 

His plants say unloved, and Spring stays out of reach for all. 

He doesn’t remember why. Always just out of reach, always on the other side of screaming. 

\---

Wilbur remembers far too clear what life was before he was cursed, he remembers Techno’s laugh, bright and bubbly. Amusement, and always ready for some unorthodox joke. Wilbur remembers what he, himself, was before the God of Insanity spilled his blood for him. 

Twisted up his nature and left him teetering on the line of Soft, and Crazy. He won’t forget being happy without consequence. He refuses to remember his father in any more of the good light he was when they were young. 

He won’t blame Phil for what happened and how everything that happened after. It was never Phil’s fault. Sure their father could have been a better man, but he was far older than they were, and he called their  _ gifts,  _ curses. There was distance placed in rows between all of them. 

Especially when Tommy joined the family. A tiny blond hair boy, born only to make chaos. Wilbur clung to the younger far too much to be healthy. Techno,  _ Teddy,  _ having locked himself in his rooms with the need to make something bleed, the days only grew colder. 

There was no one outside the castle they lived in, Gods do not need others to do things for them. 

Tommy was a blessing on Wilbur’s mind, untwisting things with his soft truths, and bright baby laugh. There was nothing greater to him than his littlest brother. Phil left them to their own devices, all of them- the Only God of Creation, of life left. The man's waking hours were spent attempting to keep the worlds from falling apart. 

Wilbur will never admit he was bitter about the fact that everything seemed more important than his two cursed sons and the Tiny, Tiny, God of Chaos, and Truth. 

Wilbur remembers the day he went to ask Techno to come to dinner, and there was no response. Tommy held close to his chest, and a frown on his face. The room his brother locked himself in was full of some of the most terrifying things he’d seen in a long time. The walls were marked with small white lines, spanning from ceiling to floor. The bed was a mess, there was a stench of blood in the air. 

Techno was curled on his side in the bathtub cradling a small pink flower in his hands, sharp lines across his wrists. Dark red staining the porcelain white. Wilbur had never felt more alone than he did watching his younger brother’s blue eyes grow cloudy. 

Wilbur won’t forget watching a God die. 

Wilbur won’t forget the tiny little pink and brown-haired boy’s smile. Even if the man who stood in his place was but a ghost of who he used to be. Snow crushed on his boots and pink hair pulled into a braid. Never once will Wilbur forget that a young boy used to trail after him the way Tommy does now, he refuses to let the fact that Techno used to like his hair to drag the ground, and play fight in the mud. 

He doubts anyone notices the lack of Spring for years to come. 

Winter is all anyone will know for centuries. 

\---

Phil, Phil will admit, he has never felt more broken than watching his two sons be consumed by the monsters that the Old Gods were. He is older than creation itself, but those two young boys meant the world to him, and there was something in watching them grow up as Gods should. 

He only wished that they got to finish growing up. 

Perhaps that’s why he created Tommy, to have a son uncursed. To ignore the way that Techno and Wilbur wander around like shells of themselves. To refuse to listen to the way Wilbur screams over things he cannot understand, and the way Techno’s wrists are covered in bloody tally marks. 

He tries to be a good Dad, a good role model. But it’s nothing either boy wants anymore. 

He craves spring in the way it makes his Pink haired son light up. 

He Craves Wilbur’s laughter and his soft voice. Craves halls full of music. 

He Holds Tommy tighter and the young God of Chaos, of Truth, becomes his only salvation for A millennium. 

Phil will not lie and say that he did a good job raising his children, he won’t fill anyone’s head with blasphemy, and half-truths. Phil will not say he is proud of what each of his children has become. He won’t lie and say he is not proud of each of them for being who they are. But that does not mean he is always happy with their choices. 

But Phil loves his sons. 

He’d do anything they ask of him. 

\--- 

Tommy does not know of a time before Wilbur was jaded and almost always had unfocused eyes. He does not know of a time where Wilbur was only music and loud laughter- focused eyes, and a playful, never playing Dad- Older brother. 

Tommy Does not know of a time before Technoblade was sharp and full of only hate. He does not know of a time where Techno was quiet, running barefoot after Wilbur is gardens full of plants, he does not know of a boy who weaved flowers into their father’s hair. 

Tommy lives for himself and for everything that collapses in his wake. 

There is nothing more than the chaos that walks in his footsteps, even when he does not mean it. There is something that is everything in his nature to be wild. He is not cursed, he will never learn the cruelty of Dead Gods, he will only know the hate of powerless Humans. 

Even as he stands in the shadow of the formless shadow of his brother, as he stares up at Dream  _ A god among men.  _ Tommy does not like to be cruel. He likes to have fun, he likes to play games, he likes to tell jokes, he likes wandering around with Tubbo and giggling over things like a child he knows he is not.

Tommy knows he is young by the standards of God, he knows that there is nothing that will change that. Even as he stares up at False smiley faces. 

He does not understand the difference between Humans with too much power, and Gods with too little. 

Because at the end of the day,

Aren’t they the same thing? 

\---

L’manburg will never know the true fate of Wilbur Soot, they will never know that he is simply playing a game because he thinks it makes them all  _ happy,  _ he is dead. 

L’manburg will never understand a God of Spring cowers in fear behind a God too big for his mind. 

L’manburg will never understand that Tommy will always be a child, will always be a boy with too many responsibilities. 

L’manburg will never understand that Phil did cry for his son, long before he died. 

\--- 

The people of Dream’s world will never be able to tell the difference between a Mad God, and a Merciless Human. 

Because at the end of the day, 

Aren’t they the same thing? 

\---

The two stand at an impasse, Tommy stares up at the God in front of him, Techno’s face is blank and his hair is escaping in large chunks to drag the floor. There’s something feral in his eyes, something that makes Tommy twitch. 

He turns his attention away from the other, fidgeting with his hands. Swallowing thickly, and he hears Techno’s sigh, the door creaks open further. “Come on, it’s cold, and Wilbur would kill me if he knows I left you to freeze to death.” There’s a pang in his chest at the way the other turns, the way the other speaks as if Wilbur is still alive. 

Tommy follows quietly. The house is far warmer than he thought it would be, several shelves are populated by plants, and Tommy resists the urge to set one on fire. 

“Been playing Human too long.” Techno’s blue eyes are sharp, and it’s rare to see his oldest brother without his boar skull. Tommy blinks at him and slides a hand through his bangs. He grabs at the edge of his shirt. He shrugs and curls up on the couch. 

He understands what the other is talking about, even Techno sits down to tend the fire.  _ Like a human.  _ There’s a heavy silence that hangs over them, and Tommy pulls his legs closer to his chest. Resting his head on his knees. “Is that a bad thing?” 

The dark blue eyes turn to stare into his soul, Tommy looks right back at him. Techno shrugs, “You’ve been letting a self-proclaimed  _ God,  _ push you around like you are a small child. If you wish to play mortal that is your choice, but I will not let you lose yourself in a game of Mortality.” His lip curls, and anger pools in his stomach. Techno sits back to stare at the fire, fingers reaching up to grab a plant pot sitting on a shelf. The “Not like Wilbur” goes unsaid. 

Tommy understands both the respect and the Hate Techno has for Dream. He knows Wilbur holds, held; the same thing. There was always going to be that. But Tommy, Tommy will always hate Dream. 

Techno sets the plant back and stands. “I’m going to bed.” Tommy watches him climb the ladder, and vanish into the attic. “Don’t touch my stuff.” 

\--- 

Techno doesn’t understand Tommy anymore than he understood Wilbur. There was nothing that actually made sense anymore. His brothers played Human, so often yet they never understood the harm they were doing to themselves in the process. 

A God who plays human, who plays man; will lose themselves in the mask of mortality. Wilbur’s playing dead, like it’s a game- like he’s not hurting everyone. Techno doesn’t particularly care at the end of the day. But the dejected look on Tommy’s face sturs a set of instincts that he had long buried in the process to become the being he is now. 

It makes his skin itch, and the voices chatter away in anger. 

They don’t like what his roles were before they came to be. He rolls onto his back, his braid digging into his spine, blinking up at his ceiling. There is always something within his reach that he can never quite have. 

He presses his fingers against his lips, digging his nails into the flesh. He can hear Tommy move around the house, the boy was in his kitchen. Techno picked at the skin on his bottom lip and closed his eyes. He has a Godling to help, and a country to bring to its knees.

The need to preserve his brother's sacred land burns. 

\---

Wilbur stared at Tubbo, and shook his head- the boy was incredibly smart. But such a  _ Yesman.  _ It unnerved him sometimes, how often Tubbo would think that he was doing what was best only to do the opposite. It made his skin crawl. 

Tommy never should have been exiled, it only showed Dream that he was in control. Wilbur didn’t like that at all. L’manburg was  _ his,  _ it belonged to him. Sacred to Wilbur himself. Only he was to be the only to damage it now. 

Tubbo’s smile was thick as he made eye contact with Wilbur over Fundy’s head. Wilbur smiled at him and twisted away, face screwing up in concentration. He scratched at his arms and walked away. Being Ghostbur was exhausting, it was easy to be Happy and forgetful. But his duties as the God of Peace dragged on him. 

The urge to let go of his own sanity, to drive others mad grabbed at his throat. 

He climbs the steps into Phil’s tiny house and shuts the door softly behind him. His Father blinked at him, before turning away. “Are you done playing games now?” Wilbur watched out the window to look at his son. Swallowing thickly, and he shrugged. “Playing dead makes them happy.” 

Phil’s blue eyes stare through him, and Wilbur suppresses a shiver. “You could have helped your brother today.” He watches his Father turn the page of his book. Wilbur scoffs and wrings his hands together. “As if Techno would let me.” Phil snorts and flicks to the next page again. He knows the older God isn’t even reading the book, he’s only playing at being busy. 

“He probably would have. He’s been unbalanced for so long-” Wilbur glances back at his Father, at the way the god sits- face screwed up, and his hands curled around the edges of his book. “His house is full of plants he keeps alive, and he’s confessed he has no idea why.” 

There’s no hope that rises in his chest, and it feels more like Wilbur is playing his hand at being Technoblade than an amnesiac ghost. The God of Spring was long gone. They all had given up hope of him returning. Wilbur’s lips twitch. “I do not remember a time when he was not unbalanced Philza, it’s always been that way. Has it not?” He tilts his head and drops his hands down to his sides. 

His father is silent, and the book’s page flips again. “You promised to not forget Wilbur. A long, long, long, time ago. To be the best older brother you could, to a tiny pink hair babe.” Phil’s blue eyes are cold when they meet Wilbur’s. “Where is that little godling now?” 

Wilbur stares at his Father, he has no quip, no response. Because he doesn’t  _ know _ . 

\--- 

Techno stands in the kitchen when Tommy wakes up, the god’s hair is curling down to his knees, parts of it pulled up into a bun, others braided. 

The other is cradling a potless plant in his hands, running his fingers over the edges. Rolling leaves carefully between his fingers. Tommy watches his brother coax the tiny thing to life. 

He feels like he’s missing something. 

Dark blue eyes are glued on him the second he steps into the room. There’s something that’s always been unearthly about this particular brother of his. 

Something that was even more so than Their estranged father. 

Tommy steps back and sits on the couch, pulls his legs close to his chest. Techno waves to the plate sitting on the table, “Eat.” He shakes his head carefully, and hugs his legs closer. 

Eyes stare through him. 

“Tommy, come here.” His legs disobey him, and he’s climbing up on his feet, crossing into the kitchen. The other God stands impossibly still, before moving stiffly to put the plant back down in a pot. 

He holds out a hand, and grabs carefully at the back of Tommy’s neck. Pulling him closer. Tommy’s limbs relax at the familiar hold, at the softness of the others palms and at the calluses that scared his fingers. 

An arm curled around his waist. Tommy grabbed at his brother’s shirt with shaky hands, “Last time I did this you were much smaller.” Fingers grab at dirty blond hair. 

Nodding against his chest, and relaxed. “Do you want me to kill him?” Tommy let’s put a wet laugh. Shaking his head. “Why not?” Tommy doesn’t know, there’s anger in his veins. 

“Don’t want that on you.” 

Techno’s snort rattles under his head, “There is nothing I would not do for any of you.” Hands grip his shoulders and push him away. Intense Dark blue eyes sparking pink stare at him. 

“If you want to get rid of him, say the word I’ll leave him for you to take care of. But nothing will be done, unless you ask me too.” 

Tommy feels powerful, feels in control- chaos is meant to be uncontained, to be all of Tommy’s. He doesn’t like feeling powerless. For all the time Techno spent on his own, he knew how to put Tommy back in his place. 

He grabs at his brother’s arm, fingers digging into the cotton of his shirt. “He’s  _ mine.”  _ Techno’s smile splits his face, showing off sharp teeth. There’s flowers in his hair, blood red lily’s perched around his face like a crown. 

\---

Phil watches the people of L'Manburg with impassive blue eyes, Tubbo holding out a new ankle bracket. He picked it out of the president's hands, and dropped it to the floor. It shatters when it connects with the wood of his doorstep. Shoving the door closed with his foot as he turns around and walks back into his house. 

Tubbo’s splutter is loud and upset. “Philza Minecraft!” He holds his breath, and glares as the boy pushes his way into his home, Fundy hanging around behind him. The shattered monitor in his hands. 

“Get out.” 

They both flinch, Fundy taking a step back, and Tubbo looking hurt. “Grandpa?” Phil will never understand why Wilbur decided to leave his son mortal, he steadies himself, and points to the door. “Unless you’ve come to trash my home. I suggest you leave.” 

Tubbo turns and leaves. 

Fundy stood with his ears pinned to his head, and his hands curled tightly around the monitor. His eyes were sad. “Out.” 

There is fury under his skin, he wishes he could be the God he is for just a second. To make them wish for mercy, to make them understand why you do not anger the Gods. 

\---

When Techno goes for Phil, it’s not in the middle of the night, it’s in the early morning. The other is standing in the middle of his home, face hidden behind the boar skull. Bloody Flowers tied in his hair. 

He stares at his son, and then nods. “Let me get my stuff.” Techno stares at Tubbo’s frozen form in the doorway. Phil glances back at the kid before shrugging, and grabbing his bag from behind a chest. 

Raising an eyebrow as Techno steps past Tubbo and out onto the docks. “Come on Phil. Tubbo can tell  _ Ghostbur  _ where you’ve gone.” Phil screws up his nose, and follows after his shortest Son. 

\---

Tommy fidgeted while he waited for Techno to return, fingers twisting around the edge of his shirt. He curled closer to the couch. 

The door swung open, and Techno crossed the threshold. Tommy stumbled on to his feet, heart pounding in his chest at the sight of Phil. Blue eyes landed on him, and there’s relief on his fathers face. 

He chokes on air, and collides with his Dad’s chest. Feeling as small as the Godling he is, hands curl around him, and fingers are brushing through his hair. 

“There’s my Chaos.” Hands cup his cheeks, and tears drip down his face. He grabbed for his father as he pulled away. 

\---

There is something, in the way Phil’s sons wander around each other. In the ways they push and shove. Poke at each other, there was something in watching them relearn each other. For Tommy to learn the boundaries of a God who was hardly involved in his childhood, for Techno to relearn Tommy in every single way he knows. 

Phil got to relearn his sons. 

Wilbur stayed away, Phil honestly thought it was for the best some days- watching his sons, there was no mediator. No one to push between them, no one to pull Tommy away- no one to shove Techno off. 

For once they got to actually be brothers more than strangers who lived together. 

The situation that drives them together hurts Phil more than he would like to say. His boys never got to be children when they first formed, and they would never get to be children now. No matter what age they do pick to be as. 

Watching them come and go, while Techno and Tommy plan and plot. There is a sick middle ground between the two. Techno is driven by the need to destroy, and Tommy is driven by the need to be chaotic- to pull everything apart at the seams. 

Phil lets them be, with only the tiniest wish for Wilbur’s lands to be left alone. 

The glare that Tommy delivers Techno at the words- as if Techno had done more than give the land a lighter scorch. “We get my Discs back. And just my Discs.”

Dark blue eyes peer into Electric blue. “It’s Wilbur’s land.” It's a statement, things a  _ man  _ would not understand. A thing Phil learned Dream did not understand. The man may be the admin, but the land that L’manburg rested on was Wilbur’s. 

Would always be Wilbur’s. 

Tommy nods, but he did not step away. And Phil did not step in, not even as Techno stepped forwards. 

The God of Chaos and the God Of War.

The God of Truth and The God of Spring.

One would come out of this bleeding, or they both would step away from a fight that they will never win. 

But Phil knows his Sons are stubborn, grafted from the same stitch of the universe. They are meant to go hand in hand. But they will always stand opposed to each other. 

It’s Tommy who steps away. 

It’s Techno who smiles softly, and turns away. 

It’s Phil who breathes a sigh of relief for the wooden structure of Techno’s cabin. 

\---

It does not last. 

The cursed are not meant to be happy. 

\---

A God playing ghost stands in masked rage at the left pieces of the community house. On the way, Dream demands the discs from Tubbo like they were not sacred items to Tommy. He burns in the rain, as his littlest brother screamed  _ No.  _ Like he could not bring them all to their knees if he wished. 

Wilbur swallows down a scream of fury at the way Tommy turns on Techno,  _ Soft Teddy always the first one to stand behind you, always the first one to offer a defense, Sharp and unsurpassed Teddy, always ready to fight the universe for those he loved.  _ He digs his nails into his arms until he bleeds gold, as Techno softly offers a plan, as Techno stands in shook as Tommy quietly tells him he’s with Tubbo. 

There is something in the way Dream’s smile pears out from under his mask, the way it drips crazy. The way it tells Wilbur the puppet master has finally caught them all in his trap. 

And Wilbur can only suppress his fury, can only hold it tight to his chest. Can only ground his fingers into his arms, and bleed the color of Gods. 

Because the two Boys, the Two godlings are far too numb to his Words now. Far to gone from Wilbur’s realm. He can only cling to them with Warfare. 

With  _ Death.  _

He blinks as tears roll down his cheeks. 

Is this what it is truly like to be Powerless?

\---

Techno’s hands shake, his mind spins as  _ Chat  _ screams. Tommy’s face is covered in tears, and what happened? When did Techno lose whatever tentative bond he had. 

_ Why did it matter?  _

_ Traitor!  _

_ Brother?  _

_ Kill them! Show them what we are _

_ BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD.  _

_ Monsters- it’s because he thinks you are more Monster than God.  _

He swallowed, and raised his chin. Dreams chattering away, calling them stupid, calling for  _ his aid.  _ Calling for a favor. 

He cannot bring himself to look away from his little brother. Who looks heart broken. Who clings to mortals like they will not wither and die. 

_ He’s reminded of Plants he loved so dearly only to kill the first time he stepped into his garden after... after… _

He feels eyes on him, he feels expectations, prayers. He can feel Tommy’s eyes pleading him to not do something. 

_ Chat  _ clamors. Shouting to the point he cannot pull the sounds apart. He could not scream over them if he wished. He glances at Dream, the masked false God looks excited, excited for something. 

Techno does not care what for. 

“You got any Withers?” His voice is high, bright, excited- and Techno stares at him. As Tommy screams something, and the rest clamor after him.  _ It’s Wilbur’s land. It is not his to ruin.  _

He glared at Dream from behind the boar mask. He knows the admin cannot see it. 

Techno looks back at Tommy and tilts his head to the side. Reaching up, unclasping the Boar skull. The bone falls to the ground with a crack so loud it makes even  _ Chat  _ fall silent. 

Dark blue eyes level Dreams mask with a sharp glare. He knows his lips are pulled into a shark's grin. “You still want his head on a pike Toms?” 

There’s a ripple of unease, and Tommy’s face morphs instantly, Joy shining in his eyes. “Of course I do.” And Techno hefts his Sword, and gives it a good spin.

He shoves the tip under Dream's chin.

“I have some. Just not for you.” 

The air is stiff, and cold- and Techno can feel the water seeping through his boots. Rain tumbles from the sky, and Dream’s smile has vanished. The admin had pinned it on Techno to turn, to ram his fury back into Wilbur’s land like it did not matter what his brother staked his claim on. 

He puts weight into the hold on his blade, tipping Dreams chin up; and grins. 

\--- 

Niki watched, holding her breath, at the sight of Tommy’s mad grin- looking far too much like Wilbur at the end of his life. She held her breath, and held onto Fundy's sleeve. There was something dark in Techno’s eyes, something heavy in a face she’d never seen before. 

He had Wilbur’s jaw, she notes; with mild horror. 

It’s easy to forget they are-  _ were _ brothers. 

He shares the hook of Phil’s high cheekbones, he takes the dip of Tommy’s nose. She swallows at the visceral look on his face. A scar decorating his cheeks. Dream’s got his hands up, she notices a light tremble of his fingers. 

She basks in the visible fear on many of their faces. 

Tommy’s stepped away from Tubbo, his helmet held in his hands- his smile wide and bright. She cannot place it, but there is something about his eyes- something so terribly wild that she visibly shivers. 

She glances at Sapnap, at Sam, at Punz, at the Admin’s friends. 

There’s a look of panic on all of their faces. 

There is fury on many others' faces. 

In the ruins of the community house. 

\---

Wilbur steps forwards, his invisibility wareing off, there is a tie between his brothers. 

Maybe they are not as far from each other as Wilbur thinks. 

He notices eyes on him as he wanders through the crowd, side stepping streams of water, his steps have purpose. He watches as Fundy catches sight of him, and he holds down a smile. There is something else he must do here. 

Techno’s got a look on his face, one that promises far more pain then it would be worth. There’s a shimer in Tommy’s shadow, a nature he’s been locking down on for months now. It cracks the left over wood of the house under his boots. 

Wilbur stares at his brothers and wishes their father was here, wishes to shout from the rooftops.  _ I raised these two. I finished taking care of them in place of you. I did this.  _ Phil is not here, and perhaps as he twists his fingers into knots. It’s for the best. 

There’s a steady hold on Techno’s sword. On the way Tommy hefs the axe in his hands, at the bloodthirsty nature of his siblings. Wilbur steps up behind Tubbo. 

The anger under his skin boils as gold runs down his arms, he lets them hang uselessly down to his sides, something snaps in him, and he grins. Not Ghostbur’s doopy,  _ Have some blue,  _ smile, not vancent doesn’t quite reach his eyes. No he grins, sharp and excited. There’s an intake of breath. 

Wilbur revels in it. 

“ _ Wilbur?”  _

He lets a laugh bubble out of his throat, and clings to Tommy’s shoulders. Blue eyes dart to him, and there’s power behind them. “ _ Suck it Green boy.”  _ his voice carries, and he knows he’s solidifying as he stands here. Tommy’s lips pull even wider. 

“I wanna watch him  _ Die  _ Teddy.” 

Techno’s laugh is border line hysterical, and there’s something so brightly protective behind his eyes, as he bully’s Dream out of the ruins, down the path, past the museum. 

The crowd follows after them at a distance. 

Tommy skips along and Wilbur walks. Hands in his pockets, and leaves a trail of blue as he does. 

“Techno, Techno- come on, you owe me. Look- They executed you! They betrayed you!” Dream’s voice was high with panic, hands shaking “Come on, what has Tom-  _ Tommy,  _ ever done for you?” Wilbur watches with amusement as Techno stops in the middle of the L’manburg docks, and kicks at Dreams knees. 

“I owe you shit  _ Admin _ .” Techno’s head is tilted, and he stares down at the blond. “I am not a puppet you can waltz around.” He holds out his hand, and Tommy is at his side in seconds. Wilbur wanders into Phil’s house, shoving open the balcony doors. “Ooo~ look at this,” He grins at Quackity with an edge in his smile. “Front. Row. Seats.” 

The duck hybrid shivers. 

Sapnap steps up on shaky legs. “Look you’ve humiliated him, No- no need to kill him.” Techno’s attention draws from whatever he was mumbling to Tommy about, to the Pyromaniac. There is no amusement in his eyes. “He made my brother miserable.  _ It’s only fair I do the same.”  _

Wilbur laughs. 

And claps his hands together, kicking his legs. 

“That’s, that’s not justice! Tommy! Don’t-” Tubbo trails off, as Tommy turns on him slightly. Wilbur rests his arms on his knees. Tubbo traded away an item he had no right too. Dream won’t die until the disc is safely returned. 

_ They don’t know that thought.  _

_ \---  _

Rage that had been hiding in his skin for months, weeks, days, hours. Exploded in Tommy the second Tubbo handed Dream that Fucking Disc.  _ Those were his. His and no one else's.  _ Dream was still blabbering away about a favor, and Tommy was finished with being nice. 

He was going to turn on Techno,  _ His fucking brother;  _ for nothing more than a chance to get his  _ Discs  _ back. No matter the conversations they held. Techno was not out to destroy L’manburg unless Wilbur instructed it to be. 

And it’s hard to get in a world full of Liars, that Techno doesn’t lie. 

_ Not to them.  _

_ “He would lie to you Dream! But not to me, Not to me.”  _

“ _ I’m with Tubbo.”  _

_ “You got any Withers?”  _

_ “You still want his Head on a pike Toms?”  _

Tommy stares at Tubbo with fury in his veins, and anger in his soul. He is not an easy God to truly anger. Something that’s been whispered in his ears since he was young, you can be angry, but do not let the mortals, the men, get in the way of what matters. 

He huffs hair out of his nose, and pushes his fringe out of his face. “What do you know of Justice? Hm? An anvil and an execution stand?” A vince is carried through the crowd, and Wilbur’s gleeful laughter eggs him on. Tommy is tired, and he wants to be  _ Mean  _ for once.  _ Wants to be himself,  _ instead of a child. 

There’s anger in him, anger in words he means more than he aches to remember to mean. 

“ _ The Discs! The Discs were worth more than you ever were!”  _

Tommy does both mean those words and does not. 

He glances at Dream, and grabs the enchantment table from his pocket. The tiny magic object vibrating in his hand. Techno’s face is bare, shown to the world,  _ more than brothers in arms.  _ Tommy spins the Chest on his fingers. 

And he is his age. 

Waltzing up the stairs, lacking the clumsy teenage air he normally holds. 

He is  _ Power, He is Grace.  _

_ He is Chaos untapped, Chaos unhindren.  _

He is the  _ riptide _ . 

The chest ripples, and he sets it down with a grand flourish. He shows off his teeth in a smile that hurts his cheeks. The restrained Chaos crackles across his skin, and leans over the top of the chest, traping his fingers on the edge. 

Dream’s mask is asuqe, and green eyes stare up at him with such a delicious look of fear, Tommy wanted to laugh. “You’ve got something of  _ Mine,  _ Something you shouldn’t have  _ Taken.”  _ There’s a warble to his voice, and Dream, Dream- beautiful God among Men, Dream- swallowed thickly. 

Tommy is tired of playing mortal.

\---

Techno rolls back on his heels, and unlatches his chest plate, letting the netherite clatter to the ground, and slides his helmet off his head, dropping it in the water. Shaking out his hair, and letting it tumble down his back. He twists his arm guards, and watches as they fall. 

He’s hardly paying attention to what’s going on around him, and he finished pulling off his leggings, the straps complicated, and they fell from his legs like a puppet with its strings cut. A ring of Chrysanthemum is a halo around his head. Hiding around his crown, and he stands and watches. 

Wilbur leans forwards like all of this is far more interesting than anything he’s seen in his life, and it’s beautiful. To see his brother as he should be. 

Tommy is chatting away, leaning over the enderchest- waving his hands about- face pulled into a smile so wide Techno’s face hurts in sympathy. But he does not waver, anyone who steps forwards will face the wrath of a God, not that of a man. He picks up his sword, and turns towards the crowd. 

No one moves. 

The sound of a chest being open makes his head turn, and Dream draws out the discs. Tony snatches them before he can parade them. The Chest Rattles and the other discs are brought up, and Tommy sets them all down gently. 

“Look now that  _ wasn’t so hard was it?”  _

The chest vanishes back into his pocket, and Techno kicks his armor off the dock into the waters below, the splash almost unheard over the sound of the thunderstorm. “Blow it up.” 

Wilbur’s voice catches on the wind, there’s glee in his eyes. “The  _ church _ .” The shouting assaults Techno’s ears, it’s almost louder than  _ Chat _ .  _ Almost.  _

_ Pathetic _

_ Could have destroyed it _

_ Only we can have claim.  _

_ Kill them.  _

_ Blood. _

_ Replacement.  _

Tommy shakes his head, and skips down the steps- shedding chunks of armor as he goes. Shaking out his hair, and Techno feels something remotely close to  _ Pride  _ bubble in his chest. 

He hushes  _ Chat  _ softly, and reaches for Tommy. Who curls under his arm carefully. “I have what I want.” Electric Blue eyes peer up at him, and there’s excitement under his skin. “Do what you want.” 

\---

Techno’s grin turns feral. 

Niki steps back as the pink-haired man turns on Dream, sword held in his grip. Wilbur climbs down from Phil’s old house, and she craves the older man. He’s always been able to make any of them see sense, and yet… 

Dream was stumbling to his feet, and the crowd parted for the green eyed man. It’s weird to see his face- to look at him. 

The sound of metal scraping across wood, her eyes darted back to Techno. He was standing perfectly still, watching as Dream panicked. And she notices Quackity shiver, his wings pressed against his back. 

“Come on Techno! Tommy  _ Just  _ betrayed you! There’s no reason to do this!” Niki stares at Techno’s impassive face, the feral grin had slipped off and this was almost 10 times worse than that. The famed warrior just watched, and she glanced over to Wilbur. Begging him to stop this, this would be a public execution. 

But, Wilbur’s eyes were excited, he was draped over Tommy’s shoulders; looking expectant. “Teddy, Teddy give him a head start. Wanna watch him  _ Run.”  _ Niki watches as Dream’s face pales further, and Techno’s gaze tracks. 

“You heard him.  _ Run.”  _

The blond is taking off down the path, and Techno sits and watches him go for a few seconds- before he follows after at a slower pace.

Niki can’t breathe.

\--- 

Wilbur wiggles his fingers, and shakes out his hair. Feeling larger than life, he leans Against Tommy a little more- pressing his face against his brother's shoulder. Tommy’s unimpressed snort, was far more amusing than it should have been to him. “Dad’s going to be pissed.” 

The blond’s voice carried, and Wilbur stifled a giggle. “Aw, come on- he won’t be too upset. Techno’s the one killing Dream.” Tommy shrugs, and Wilbur laughs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the last of the large fics I wrote? the rest are either a paragraph or less than a page. But that's all I'm posting to night. 
> 
> Word count for this one is 6470


End file.
